


Don't Say Things Like That.

by ghostvinyls (jebbyfish)



Category: Until Dawn (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, WARNING: mentions of suicide, i can't believe my first fic was this garbage..., it's ok tho. i GUESS this is angst. pls leave me i'm trash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-19
Updated: 2015-09-19
Packaged: 2018-04-21 12:14:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4828751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jebbyfish/pseuds/ghostvinyls
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She really did bring him comfort when he felt so bad about it, when he felt so lost and alone, when he couldn't feel anything else but hate for himself for letting his sisters die.<br/>She always wanted him to talk, though.<br/>He didn't know how ready he was to talk.</p>
<p>(CW: mentions of suicide.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Say Things Like That.

He was still reliving it, two months later.

The night that started so normal, so happy, so full of absolute-fucking-shit that ended in hurt feelings and scars and blood-- oh so much blood. And the fire-- _God,_ how could he just forget the fire? The lodge, bursting into flames like it was the Fourth of July.

_Hannah._

Hannah being there.

Alive, almost, but not really, because he knew she was dead and the monster that bore her tattoo was just a demon hiding in whatever shell was left behind of her.

How could he just let her die? Her and Beth-- Beth was already long gone and dead but he could’ve saved Hannah. If he wasn’t just such a pussy, right? If he wasn’t terrified of the forest at night, of the sounds and the feelings of being watched, being followed in the dead of the forest, if the search and rescue teams weren’t so insistent that the mines were dangerous, that there was no way the girls could be down there… a month. Or more. She was down there for at least a month. They stopped looking after three weeks.

Josh couldn’t help but replay the images in his head. The what-ifs and the should-haves. The thoughts intruded every part of his being, his words drumming against the inside of his skull like they were planning to crack it open and seep out like blood. It’s not like he would’ve mind-- how long had it been since he wanted to just get up and do it. It would’ve been easy to leap out of his second-floor window onto the hard concrete below. To open his bottle of medications and instead of taking the prescribed one, to just down the entire thing in one go and wait for death to close his eyes and take him to the twins. But that wouldn’t be fair, would it? Not to his friends. Not to Chris. Not to Sam.

Instinctively Josh reached a hand out to feel the cool surface of his phone against the warm covers of his bed. How long had he been lying here? When did he last eat? Was that it-- was he mimicking what Hannah must’ve been feeling those 30 days, that insatiable hunger, that suffering that made her want to--

He swallowed, hard. There was no point, was there? No fucking point in torturing himself to feel what she felt. He lifted his face from the pillows, wrapping his fingers around the smartphone and bringing it close to his face, the bright screen a welcoming comfort as he read the text message that now glowed in front of his eyes.

 

**Sammy- 2 hours ago:**

“hey!! can i come over? i can bring chinese takeout! :D”

 

He drummed his free hand on his hip, pursing his lips at the text before swiping the lock screen to tap out a quick message to the blonde.

 

“Be here in 15 or you’re dead to me.”

 

A response was given almost instantaneously.

 

“will be down in 10, dirtbag <3”

 

Sam was always a comfort, since the day the twins disappeared. She was the first to wake him, eyes blurry and her voice was distorted, as if she had been crying. Sam was desperate then, so full of anger at the others and so desperate to find her best friend. The sight made him cry too-- Josh hated to cry in front of others, but Sam wasn’t like the others. She was more sympathetic, more in tune, so loving towards his awkward Hannah and so kind to him that disliking Sam in the slightest sounded like a crime in itself. She was just so… _normal_ compared to him and his fucked up state of mind. So out of his circle.

But she was always _there._ When Hannah was crying and needed someone other than her siblings to comfort her, Sam was there. The parties, the movie nights, the sleepovers, Sam made her presence and made it known. She was an unpredictable force at times, changing face from bubbly and warm and happy to something serious, something somber at lightning speed. She was there when the twins went missing and held his hand for dear life as they waited on the porch in the cold in the middle of the night, hoping two brunette haired girls would finally emerge from the woods and they’d all just hug and cry and apologize and forgive. She was there two weeks after when they were still missing and he couldn’t sleep at night and couldn’t help but blame himself and the meds weren’t working and he just needed someone to talk to him about anything other than Beth or Hannah or the lodge. She was there a year later, wanting to give support but not bringing them up again, worried that it might hurt him, worried that it might make him relapse but she didn’t know he already had. She was there at dawn, and she forgave him for the shit he pulled, after all that shit he pulled in petty revenge. She was there two months later, texting him and bringing takeout just for the hell of it.

He had to get up and look decent, he realized after a moment, shaking any lingering thoughts of Sam from his mind and sliding into a t-shirt and pants that weren’t haphazardly tossed across his bed frame. He slid a hand through dark curls once, then padded down the pristine white stairs in his family’s pristine white home to stand on the cold tiles of the kitchen, pacing up and down, waiting, glad for a reason to pull himself out of bed for the first time in days.

She showed up in eleven minutes-- he wasn’t counting, but she had been. Josh had opened the door and raised eyebrows at her, grinning at her soft pout as she held up a simple plastic bag.

“I’m a little late.”

“Didn’t notice, was too busy admiring you.” He meant it as a joke, probably.

“You make it sound like you don’t admire me enough,” she punched his arm gently and he forgot how strong she was. The blonde pushed past him, kicking off her sandals by the door and shuffling across the kitchen to set the bag on the granite-topped island, turning over to look at him.

“I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever, not since, you know--”

The lodge.

“Y-yeah. It’s been hectic. Mom and Dad have been busy tearing the place down, getting rid of it once and for all. Place was a dump anyway.”

If she noticed his voice cracking, she didn’t say anything.

“Not as much of a dump as you are. Jeez, Josh. When did you last take a shower?” She was grinning.

“Say what you want, but this is the smell of a real man.”

Sam laughed then, loud and clear and he felt himself relax. Things were normal. Things were good. Sam was still the same, even after all of it.

“So,” she began, pulling styrofoam takeout boxes from the bag and setting them around the counter. She had only gotten a few boxes but it may as well have been an entire buffet for Josh's empty stomach. “how’s everyone else? Been keeping in touch?”

Josh shrugged a little, joining her at the island and pulling up a chair, snagging a pair of chopsticks and splitting them in one quick movement. “Mike’s still pissed at me, so not him. I don’t blame him either,” he added that last part under his breath. “Chris came by a few times to chill like normal, but since him and Ash are like a thing now, I’m lucky if he even texts me.”

Sam rolled her eyes at him, sliding one of the boxes towards the other with a gentle grin. “Come on, you’re happy for him. We’ve all been waiting for Chris and Ashley to happen for _years_. If he wasn’t going to say anything, you were definitely gonna.”

Josh winced a little, glancing at Sam from the side. “Oh yeah. I was total fucking help when it came to those two.” He remembered the comments he made to Chris outside of the cabin, regretting being so stupid, but a hint proud that something actually happened.

Sam had grown quiet then. His eyes looked over towards her, where she was just staring at him as if there were something on his face. Their eyes locked for a moment, and he took note of how clear they were, as if she had a sudden clarity about him that he wish she didn’t, as if she knew something he didn’t. Did he show pain on his face? Was she worried about him? He hated doing that to her, making her worry. Sam didn’t deserve to worry about someone like him.

He was the first to break eye contact, instead fixating his gaze on the chopsticks in his hands. “What’s up?”

“Nothing, Josh. It’s just… It’s just really good to see you.”

He waited for her to say more. She didn’t.

 

The takeout was good, of course, after hours of letting himself starve. He invited Sam into the living room to pick out some shitty movie to turn on and make fun of for a couple of hours. His parents wouldn’t get home until late, again. After all that had happened, he was still surprised they left him alone all the time. As if they were testing him, inviting him to try it again, to feel the sensation of dying again…

“Wow, your movie quality’s really improved,” Sam sounded impressed from her kneeling position on the floor in front of the wall-to-wall DVD collection, as was to be expected from some big name Hollywood exec. Josh snorted at her, running a sweaty palm through his hair and looking at everything but her.

“You’re just judging by covers now, Sammy. Just grab one and go.”

“Oh, shut up. Like _you_ don’t have trouble picking movies out."

“Uh, hello?” he turned to face her this time, raising his arms and one eyebrow to tease at her. “You’re talking to Josh fucking Washington. I know my films. I know what’s good.”

She leaned back, balancing on the balls of her feet, gesturing with one hand to the massive collection. “Then be my guest.”

He rolled off the couch to kneel next to her on the white carpet, an elbow brushing against hers as he scanned the part of the shelf she was so fixated on.

“Horror movies, huh? You’re so cliche.”

She slapped him playfully, trying desperately to hide a smile and act serious. “Shut up. Horrors are good.”

“As if we weren’t just living a horror two months ago.”

Silence fell between the two, and Josh froze, not even wanting to glance at Sam, who he felt tensing up next to him. An apology began to slip through his lips.

“Sam, I’m sorry. That was such a dick thing to say.”

“It’s okay, Josh. Really.” He felt her hand, warm and comforting, settle on his shoulder. He flinched in reflex and she pulled away as quiet settled again for a moment longer.

“You can still talk about it, you know. You’re still hurting.” She was being sincere.

“I know. But you’re still hurting too.”

They sat there on the floor, neither one looking at the other but at the DVDs, searching for words to say, for something that would change the topic but neither really wanted to. Her hand returned to his shoulder, squeezing gently, moving down against the blades of his shoulders, pushing into every ache there. He squeezed his hands together, careful not to move, as if one shrug were to push Sam away altogether. He didn’t want her to stop her gentle back rubbing. It was comforting, friendly, and so, so her. So normal.

“Josh, talk to me. Please.”

He was quiet still, but this time he made eye contact briefly. She was pretty right? He hadn’t imagined thinking that all those times before? The words caught in his throat and he just stared at her, wishing for her to do something to propel his thoughts forward. She just frowned and he heaved a sigh.

“I don’t deserve you, Sam.”

He went back to the shelf, pulling _Jaws_ from it’s snug location and standing up to stick the DVD into the player. She was quiet when she stood up, shuffling to the opposite end of the couch and staring straight ahead at the television screen, and he could almost feel the gears in her head turning even without directly looking at her.

“You don’t have to say things like that.” it came out as a whisper.

“I do. You’re too good to me. You brought me Chinese food and wanted to talk. How lucky can someone like me get? Someone so fucked up like me.”

She breathed out hard, as if she was laughing at his response. He pulled back from the DVD player and sank back into the warm couch, looking at Sam who sat maybe a foot apart from him. Her profile was pretty, her eyes were sad, deep in thought.

“I don’t pity you, Josh. I don't think you're fucked up. That’s not why I’ve done all this, if that’s what you were thinking.”

He felt his throat close up as she turned to look at him, her crystal clear eyes darkening as she struggled momentarily to pick out the right words.

“I just want you to be safe. Talk to me.”

And suddenly he felt his emotions flood his insides, threatening to burst. Josh sighed at her. Sam was too good at this, too perceptive, too gentle to him.

“They’d be alive if I wasn’t passed out drunk.”

“Don’t blame yourself.”

A chuckle bubbled from his throat, and he wished he didn’t laugh. “It wouldn’t be fair to blame the others, not after the shit I put you all through on that mountain. Before Hannah showed up again and tried to slaughter us like pigs. Shit, Sammy. Shit. It would’ve been better for everyone if I had just died up there.”

“Don’t say that either. No one wants you to die, Josh.”

“I want to. _I want to die_ , Sam. You don’t get it.”

And the space between them was closed, suddenly. Had he been watching her? When did she get this close, her arms wound tightly around him, clinging on as if they were drifters at sea and he was all there was to hold on to. He lifted his arms weakly to gently settle them across her back, he could feel her heart beating at nearly the same speed his was going at, and he wondered then if she felt his heart too, if she could feel his pain, too.

“Josh, please. Don’t say things like that. I know-- I _know_ I don’t get it, but God dammit I want to be here to help you! Please.”

Tears prickled and threatened at the back of his eyes. She was just so sincere, how? How could she sit here and honestly want to be here for him? Was he imagining it? Was he so desperate for someone to listen to him that he just dreamt her presence up?

But he wasn’t dreaming. She was real and still hugging him so tightly he felt he might burst.

“Say something, please.”

He pressed his forehead against the crook of her neck and she adjusted herself so she wasn’t so tightly wound around him, letting him recline against her small frame, her hands rubbing circles into his back in a relaxing massage. He let out a shaky breath, almost scared to talk to her.

“Do you think they've forgiven me?”

She had no hesitation when she replied. “They never blamed you to begin with.”

“Do you forgive me, Sam?”

She stopped rubbing circles into his back and pushed him away, forcing him to look into her peachy face, her soft, kind eyes, her lips parted in an ‘O’-shape as she stared at him. She surprised him then, when she leaned forward and pressed those lips to his. She was soft against his mouth, and his lips tingled with electricity and he suddenly wanted to kiss her more, but she had already pulled back and pressed her face into his shoulder and he couldn’t help but put his arms around her back and rub circles into her skin, hoping that his touch was as much of a comfort to her as it was to him.

“I never had any reason to blame you, either.”

And they sat that way until the light through the windows turned orange and then pink and then dimmed and it was just them, the TV giving off a soft blue glow as they said nothing for hours but held each other in the comfort of the Washington’s living room, their heartbeats slower, their hands pressing into skin to rub away the aches and the memories and the fears. They realized it together, almost. That the past year, give or take, had been real. That Hannah had become a monster, that Beth was dead, that they spent days in the police station describing the night as best as they knew it. That death had been so close for them too. But they had both survived, and they were with each other, and suddenly the suffering they had shared for so long, the burden of life they bore while two people they loved had suffered agony and starvation, had dissipated because none of that mattered anymore.

They were alive, then, when they realized that that no longer mattered. They were _alive._

**Author's Note:**

> hahaha.... my first fic... was sam/josh washington uuuuggghhh i'm so lame ;___;  
> i just want closure for josh, guys. i just want him to be HAPPY....  
> i might... write... more? but i was just itching to get this out. aaah. thanks for reading!!! :')


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